


The Root of the Problem

by 1000PaperCranes



Series: Rabbit Canon [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Gen, Getting Together, Good Severus Snape, Legilimency (Harry Potter), M/M, Pensieves, Scene Change, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Spy Severus Snape, Why the Prank, canon adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000PaperCranes/pseuds/1000PaperCranes
Summary: To say it was all just a misunderstanding would imply that any of it hadn't been on purpose.Mister Weasley's triumphant return to the basement kitchen of 12 Gimmauld Place takes a turn for the historical when Sirius Black and Severus Snape finally get down to brass tacks about what happened on the full moon all those years ago.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Severus Snape, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Rabbit Canon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897585
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

_The kitchen door opened and the entire Weasley family, plus Hermione, came inside, all looking very happy, with Mr. Weasley walking proudly in their midst dressed in a pair of striped pajamas covered by a mackintosh._

_“Cured!” he announced brightly to the kitchen at large. “Completely cured!”_

_He and all the other Weasleys froze on the threshold, gazing at the scene in front of them, which was also suspended in mid-action, both Sirius and Snape looking toward the door with their wands pointing into each other’s faces and Harry immobile between them, a hand stretched out to each of them, trying to force them apart._

_“Merlin’s beard,” said Mr. Weasley, the smile sliding off his face, “What’s going on here?”_

Sirius pointed viciously at Snape, hollering, “This murdering bully thinks I’m going to let my only godson spend untold hours alone with him!”

“Murdering bully?” Snape squawked before Sirius was even halfway through his complaint. “ _You_ tried to kill _me!”_

“I did not!” Sirius rounded on the shorter man, shouting down into Snape’s face. “I told you to come just before _dawn_. _YOU_ went to the shack at moonrise. _YOU_ ignored me. _YOU_ put your own life at risk.”

Sirius was growling with his teeth bared and nearly frothing at the mouth, but Harry doubted that was why Snape suddenly went statue still.

“No,” he said plainly, eyes searching Sirius’ face, fist white knuckled around his wand, “You didn’t.”

“ _Of course_ , I did!” 

Sparks shot into the floor from Sirius’ wand. Tree roots slithered up and around Snape’s ankles, but the former death eater gave no indication that he had noticed. He was still blatantly trying to read Sirius’ face.

“Why!” Sirius flung his hand and his wand over his head, then whipped them out wide. “ _Why_ would I tell you, tell _anyone_ , to come to the shack when Moony was at his worst? When he was confused, and frightened, and hungry, and _in pain?”_ Sirius fisted his hands, wand and all, in his snarled hair. “Are you _insane!_ ”

“Sirius?” Remus had arrived behind the Weasleys. He looked as faint as he sounded. Sirius met his gaze with wide, startled eyes. Remus took a step into the kitchen. “Are you– Are you saying…”

Sirius went slack and just stared at him. It seemed that neither of them knew what Sirius was trying to say. At least, not with words. Sirius nodded and some of the lines that had been on Remus’ face as long as Harry had known him seemed to disappear.

“Look at me,” Snape said with quiet control. His expression was calculating, but not as cold as usual; he seemed almost curious. “Let me see what you remember.”

“Wouldn’t a pensive be better?” Remus and Sirius asked at the same time, but in very different tones.

“No.” Snape pocketed his wand. He lifted his hand towards Sirius’ face, but stayed well away from touching. “If you work _with_ me, I’ll be able to hear your thoughts.”

Sirius stared at Snape, the idea of having the other man in his mind clearly repulsive, but the promise of being cleared of at least one crime just as strong a lure.

“Will you be able to tell if…” Remus trailed off.

Snape shook his head and lowered his hand. “It’s obvious when a memory has been deliberately altered, but it’s natural for them to change with time. I can tell you how degraded the memory is, but not what is missing or changed.”

“Do it.” Sirius was as determined as Harry had ever seen him.

Snape’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “I could prove you a liar?”

“I’m not lying.” Sirius held up his hand. “I know this. The Dementors couldn’t take it from me.”

Snape took a leveling breath and clasped the offered hand solidly. “Look me in the eyes and find the beginning of the memory.”

They went silent and still. After nearly a minute, Harry turned to Remus and the Weasley’s feeling strangely helpless. Mr. Weasley took off his raincoat and hung it on a chair. He placed a bracing hand on Remus’ shoulder. Remus, trembling from head to toe, was not soothed. He was transfixed on the tableau of Sirius and Snape staring grimly into each other’s eyes next to their interlaced hands. Mr. Weasley focused on the strange display of magic as well, and after a few more seconds, Harry’s attention, too, was drawn back to them.

It felt like days passed in strained silence in the kitchen of Number 12 before Sirius sank into a chair. He was suddenly ashy and shaking.

Snape studied Sirius the same way he might observe a Mandrake with purple feathers. He said, “ _Now_ , we could use a pensive.”

“Sirius?” Remus choked out.

Sirius shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice suspiciously hoarse. “I– I…”

If Harry hadn’t known better, he would have thought a Dementor had snuck into the house.

“Severus?” Mr. Weasley had wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist, holding the devastated man on his feet.

“He tried to say it,” Snape admitted absently, untwirling the roots from his ankles with a wave of his hands. “Hmm…” He turned and dropped into a crouch. Courteously, Snape rapped on the door concealing the boiler.

Kreacher opened the door so thunderously Harry would not have been surprised if lighting jumped out of the hinges and struck Snape dead. “What is home wrecker wanting?”

Snape gave no indication that he heard the insult or smelled the foul stench of Kreacher’s den; he spoke very politely to the house-elf. “Regulus told me that his father had a pensive. Is it still here?”

“Kreacher is not telling spying spies where master’s treasures is.”

Snape continued as though he had not once again been disrespected. “Please, retrieve it and set it on the kitchen table.”

“Kreacher is not taking orders from _you_.” He seemed to have run out of insults he deemed appropriate for Snape.

Snape tilted his head. “Last time we spoke you called me a leaping leper.”

Kreacher blinked, grinned alarmingly, then disappeared with a crack.

Snape stood and turned back to the room. 

“What?”

Harry followed his gaze to Sirius and Remus, who despite their slowly lessening tremors both wore identical manic smiles. “ _Home wrecker?_ ” they said as one.

Snape rolled his eyes and ignored them, looking comically put upon. He seemed to have developed an actual personality in the last ten minutes.

Kreacher returned with another crack, startling everyone. He set the dirty stone bowl of the pensive down on the table with mocking delicacy. Then he darted snitch-quick back into the boiler room. He slammed the door so hard something inside fell over, bouncing tinnily and eliciting a bout of elfish swearing from Kreacher.

On another day, Harry might have taken the time to laugh. As it was, he followed Snape with his eyes as the potions master collected a bowl of soapy water and set to scrubbing out the pensive by hand.

“I’ll do it, Professor,” Harry offered, stunned by the words that had just slipped out of his mouth.

Snape gave Harry a deadpan look but allowed him to take the rag. Harry made short work of the grime; Aunt Petunia was very particular about how Harry cleaned her antique, chartreuse Dutch oven, but not about what she cooked in it.

When Harry looked up, Snape already had his wand to his temple. Rinsing and drying quickly, Harry returned the pensive to the table just in time for Snape to float a rather thick strand of memory into it. Without hesitation, Snape touched the surface of the pensive and was instantly petrified. Remus lunged for the memory, but Sirius reached out for Harry’s hand. As much as Harry wanted to see what was going on, he allowed himself to be reeled in. Sirius hid his face against Harry’s stomach and once again the room dissolved into a silence so oppressive no one moved.

Several minutes later, Snape popped up, did a quick once-over of the faces in the room, and pointed at Bill. Looking uncertain, the curse breaker stepped forward and followed Snape into the memory. Several minutes after that, Bill returned and beckoned for the twins. The pensive was within Harry’s reach and he could not take it anymore; he grabbed his way into the memory.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry landed on the grass outside Hogwarts in the shady place beyond the greenhouses. It was the dregs of sunset and hard to see. He heard Ron, Hermione, and Ginny land behind him. He nodded them forward and they all crept up to the back of the group from the kitchens. Beyond the adults stood teenage versions of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew.

“Oi, Pete,” Sirius was saying. “Over here: moonflower.”

Pettigrew was picking something from his ear. No one seemed to be paying him much attention. As he said, “I really don’t think a potion is going to cure Remus,” Bill asked, “How damaged is the memory?”

“Not much at all,” Snape said in an academic tone. “The washed-out color seems to be a byproduct of my reproduction. You cannot put thoughts into a pensive, only memories. This is my memory of what I saw in Black’s mind.”

“What’s he doing?” Fred and George pointed. Pettigrew was muttering and waving his wand, but nothing seemed to be happening.

“No idea,” Bill said. “That’s why you two are here. I thought if Remus couldn’t figure out what he was up to, you two hooligans could.” He grinned winningly at the twins, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Bill was more concerned about Pettigrew than he wanted to let on.

The twins squinted at the wishy-washy boy. “Can we get closer?”

“You could step on him,” Remus said uncharitably. “The memory doesn’t know we’re here.”

The twins did not step on him, but they did test the obliviousness of the memory in the most annoying way possible, for Pettigrew. Nothing happened.

“I don’t know if that’s enough,” Sirius said, “but it’s all that’s here.”

“I still don’t see how this will help Remus.” Pettigrew shoved his wand up his sleeve before Sirius turned around. “Professor Dumbledore is an _alchemist_ , if he can’t invent a potion to cure Remus, we can’t.”

Sirius looked exasperated, though he continued gamely. “Alchemy is a very narrow brand of magic. Dumbledore’s powerful and all, but he taught Transfigurations, not potions.” That was a good point.

“Well, then what about Slughorn? He’s the potions master.”

Sirius turned around, searching for more ingredients. “Hogwarts potions masters aren’t _real_ potions masters. The guild doesn’t allow kids like Jay Scamander to brew–Hey! Glowstone.”

“Is that true, Severus?” Remus’ eyebrows knotted together.

Snape nodded. “Yes. The guild understands that I am unable to argue the Governors’ decisions.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I had my way students like Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Rolf Scamander, Dorothy Greengrass, and Althaea Elmwood would never have had two session in my lab. Several others would likely also test out.”

“Severus,” Remus protested, “All students need a solid education in potions, for their own safety.”

“Yes,” Snape sounded tart, like he had argued this a thousand times and fully expected to be wasting his breath again. “But they don’t need to brew to get it. _For their own safety_ , and everybody else’s.”

“Does that work?” Bill asked.

Snape’s teeth unclenched. “Very well.”

“You know,” Sirius called out to Pettigrew as he gathered eerie green gems from beneath the broad leaves of a weed Harry couldn’t name. “I almost wish we could ask Snape to help.”

“Why would you want to ask that freak for help?” Pettigrew scoffed.

“Well,” Sirius pulled up an entire aconite plant from the frosty ground with a grunt, “He _is_ crazy good at potions.”

“I think I’d rather feed him _to_ Moony than trust him with Moony’s secret.” Pettigrew was a mean little shrew even as a kid.

“Who’s Moony?” Teenage Snape had appeared, melting out of the shadows of the forest.

“None of your business,” Sirius growled, advancing on Snape. Pettigrew hid in Sirius’ shadow.

“You’re sneaking around at night harvesting poison. I’d say that’s a lot of people’s business.” Snape flicked his wand, but only cleaned the dirt from the roots of the aconite plant. “The least you could do is a decent job of it.”

Sirius didn’t answer, he just stood there fuming. 

“Do you need help finding your way back to the castle, or are you going to go on another one of your midnight adventures?”

“What the hell are you doing out here anyway?” Sirius demanded.

“ _Spying_ on _you_ ,” Snape replied, though it was obviously a taunt; about a dozen glassy bubbles floated around him, filled with freshly harvested potions ingredients.

“Just go back where you came from, slimeball.”

“No,” Snape said, advancing subtly. “I don’t think I will.”

Sirius went back to his basket, quickly packing it up. “We’re not doing anything interesting. Just harvesting potions ingredients.” He was clumsy with nerves and repressed rage.

“You are _always_ up to something.” Snape leaned over Sirius’ shoulder and sneered, “This time, I’m going to find out what it is.”

Sirius jerked upright. Snape leapt backwards, bubbles bobbing around him like baubles on a strange Christmas tree.

“You know what?” Sirius growled. “You know what!” he shouted, throwing up his hands. “You want to know so bad? FINE! Touch the knot on the whomping willow!” Sirius gulped in a breath. Behind him Pettigrew drew his wand, anticipating a fight. ‘ _You’ll find what you’re looking for on the other side just before dawn!’_

Except Sirius didn’t shout the last words; his mouth didn’t even move. His voice came from all around them.

“The knot?” Snape turned in a flurry of tatty robes. “Right.” He stomped off toward main entrance of the castle, ornaments of ingredients scudding along in his wake.

Pettigrew lowered his wand.

Sirius gulped in another breath. “ERAAAGH! Why does he have to be such a prick all the time!” Spinning on his heel, Sirius stormed towards the bottom of Gryffindor tower, only to reverse and violently collect his ingredients. “Stupid Slytherin son of a snake! Why can’t he just stay in the dungeons with the rest of the evil little scumbags?”

Peter followed him away.

“I still can’t believe he meant to say dawn and didn’t,” Remus said.

“I still can’t figure out _why_ he didn’t,” the Snape of now answered.

“I think we have an idea,” George said.

“How long until it plays again?” Fred asked.

Bill pointed in the direction young Snape had left. “Here they come now.” 

And so they were; Sirius and Peter searching the foot of the castle for potions ingredients. The group watched the whole scene again, but this time, Fred stayed invasively close to Sirius and George stood practically on top of Pettigrew. Then they switched for a third viewing.

As the two Marauders approached for a fourth time, Fred and George fell deep into conversation. They ignored the scavenger hunt going on around them. Just as teen Snape was about to appear, the twins separated. 

Fred pointed his wand at George, “ _Sprachlos_.”

George took a deep breath.

Fred smirked, “Come on, Georgie, say it like you mean it. Make Mum proud.”

Another deep breath, but no attempt at speech.

“ _Finite_.”

“—OWN!” George screamed, suddenly mid-sentence. “And after that I’m going to make you clean every room in this house, NO MAGIC!”

“GEORGE!” Fred called over the yelling. “We can hear you!”

“Oh, I couldn’t tell.” George grinned. “Handy spell.”

Professors Snape and Lupin looked at each other, brows raised expressively.

“How many times do you think that happened?” Remus asked.

“Who knows,” said Snape. “I don’t suppose he was hiding around the corner when I was trying to apologize to Lily?”

Remus snorted. “I don’t suppose Lily ever actually liked you?”

“Well, there is that.” Snape turned back to the memory. Sirius took a breath to shout the lifesaving caveat to his dare, but again, nothing came out. “He actually believed he said that, _intended_ to say that. Huh.”

“It still wasn’t a good idea,” Remus said, apologetically.

“No,” Snape agreed, “but it wasn’t homicidal.”

“Why don’t we go tell Sirius,” Bill suggested. “I think he’s spent a long time suffering over something he didn’t do.”

Then they were all lifting out of the memory. Harry’s body was still standing by Sirius’ chair, but the chair was empty. Sirius himself was pacing the length of the room.

“Sirius!” Remus crowed. “Sirius, it was Peter! You _couldn’t_ say it!”

Sirius froze. “Really?”

“Really.”

“…You forgive me?”

Remus rounded the table. “Of course, you idiot!” He threw himself into Sirius’ arms. “I love you, you mangey mutt.” Remus folded Sirius into a kiss.

Snape pulled a dramatic face but settled into a chair at the long table without comment.

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Weasley said.

Snape snorted, dropping his head into his arms. “Just sit down, Molly. This has been a long time coming.” Mrs. Weasley flapped toward the stove.

“Yes,” Mr. Weasley said, easing into the chair next to Snape. “They do seem like they’ll be a while. You appear to be adapting quite well, Severus.”

Snape rolled his head, smiling up at Mr. Weasley from atop his folded arms.

“It’s an act!” George crowed.

“We _knew_ it!” squealed Fred.

Snape held up a hand, stalling the twins’ celebration. He raised his head and speared them with a look. “ _Not a word_. I am still your potions master and the ceiling of the lab always needs to be cleaned. _By hand_.”

Fred and George nodded simultaneously. “Yessir.”

“ _And_.” Snape’s eyes narrowed momentarily. “I expect you to assist in developing a potion during _all_ your detentions. The glowstone gave me an idea.”

“You mean—” Fred began.

George finished, “—no more detentions with Umbridge?”

Snape’s face twisted mulishly. “Hmm… there is that foul hag.” He shrugged. “I’m sure Mister Filch will be all too happy to tell her that you’ve a standing order for such difficult and heinous work as scraping whatever Crabbe and Goyle explode over my ceilings down on your own heads.”

“Oh, yes.” Fred and George dove into the chairs next to Snape and their father. “What will we have done to earn it?”

“You’re guess is better than mine.” It was clearly a trap Snape was laying, but the twins didn’t seem to care. They launched into a stream of partially hypothetical pranks, trying to find one worthy of such punishment.

“Oh, wait, Fred, wait,” George said suddenly. “We’re going about this all wrong. Umbridge is a blood purist and Filch thinks breathing too loudly is worthy of punishment.”

“Hmm… If punching Draco Malfoy was worthy of being banned from the Quidditch team; what did we do to the Slytherins this time?”

“Something muggley,” Sirius suggested, having finally tasted enough of Remus’ tonsils. The two Marauders sat down across from their proteges. “She always hated anyone or anything she thought inferior.”

“Paint.” Snape smiled savagely. “ _Spray_ paint.”

The whole room glanced quickly at Hermione and Harry, who shrugged. The term was self-explanatory.

“You’re going to bomb my classroom.” Snape continued, ignoring the confusion around him. He was focused on the middle distance, as if calculating something. “Do it… next Tuesday. Slytherin/Hufflepuff second years. They shouldn’t be able to make anything reactive out of their ingredients.”

“We got you wrong, didn’t we?” Sirius was staring at Snape as though he had just transformed into a beautiful cake. “Why didn’t you ever _prank_ _us?_ ”

“Yes,” Remus nodded. “We would have loved that.”

Snape blinked at them. “What are you talking about?”

“You. Right now. Spontaneously planning a master prank.” Sirius gestured impatiently at Snape. “ _This person_. We like him.” Sirius glanced at Harry. “My godson can take lessons from him.”

“No. He can’t,” Snape countered, though he looked disappointed. “The dark lord is tuning in to your godson’s head like a television. _He_ gets the other guy.”

“Well _we_ ,” Remus grinned placidly, “know this guy. We’re keeping him, even if he wears disguises.” He leaned forward. “Do your worst, Severus Snape. Werewolves don’t forget.”

“Dinner!” squawked Mrs. Weasley, banging down a pan of bubble and squeak. With a round of good-natured laughter, the inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place settled in for a home-cooked meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps not the grand plot you were hoping for, but the Prank really doesn't make any sense. Yes, Sirius is a man who doesn't think things through, and was probably at least that bad as a teen, but why would it EVER occur to him to suggest that someone he hates get right into the heart of all his secrets? Even if he wanted a hands off method of killing Snape, why use his best friend as a weapon? He could just as easily have sent Snape deep into the very dangerous forest to run afowl of centaurs and acromantulas.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the first few paragraphs are copied directly from Order of the Phoenix. I'd credit the page number but I'm sure it's different for everyone.


End file.
